


Shifty Neighbors

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: IWAIZUMI IS THE LANDLORD THO LOL, M/M, Monster!AU, a n y w a y s, awkward sex conversations, i dont know what to tag anymore g o s h, in which Yahaba is a med student and watari is his moral support, kyoutani is the next door neighbor, med!au, shifter!AU, sort of like racism?? but. like. species-ism?, talk of sexual acts, these boys are such dorks i s w e a r, this idea is original! i plan to expand and make this an actual story so!!, watari is sort of like a social worker, yahaba crushes hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew that yelling at your neighbor to turn down their fucking music would actually lead to this?<br/>~In which, Yahaba hates, loves, denies, and most defintiely has a change of mind and soul that he wouldn't complain about for the life of him~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lapaisa2008](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapaisa2008/gifts).



> Hello everyone! So, lapaisa2008 wanted either a soulmate AU or a shifter AU, so i got it a little bit of both!  
> I came up with this idea, and i sort of built my own world for it, so if you have any questions please leave a comment or ask me on my tumblr!  
> And so!! without further ado!

The world was a dangerous place, Yahaba knew that; the fact had been ingrained into him the moment he was old enough to understand. The world was a dangerous place, filled with the monsters from their nightmares and creatures of the night. Werewolves, vampires, shifters, poltergeists, the undead, all of them, they were living and breathing and seconds away from snatching them away from their lives as they knew it.

There were mandatory defense classes and what everyone called “Monsterology 101” added to their classes in middle school, and every year from there on out. It taught them how to fight off attackers, showed them each monsters’ weakness and how to defeat it, taught them how to recognize signs of monsters’ whereabouts, and made them aware of how to determine if someone was human or a monster.

Yahaba was pretty confident about his understanding of the world he lived in; he thought he knew how to keep himself safe and as far away from monsters as possible, thought he could spot one a mile away and run for the hills. Some of those classes taught him that monsters could live perfectly normal lives and weren’t a threat, but Yahaba couldn’t see the sense in that; sure, okay, maybe not all monsters were bad, but there was no way they could be _good_.

That is, until Yahaba came face to face to one.

* * *

Yahaba didn’t really mind having a new neighbor, and it wasn’t really like he had a choice about things like this, but what he did mind was that their music blared almost constantly. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could make out the loud guitar and drums. He just thanked whichever god that was listening that it wasn’t that nightmarish techno shit, but this was still pissing him off.

So, he pulled on some shoes, and stomped the couple feet in between their doors. He knocked, well, more like pounded, on the door twice, and not a second later, the door flew open.

The man staring back at him looked _pissed_ , golden eyes slanted as they glared and lips twisted up in what looked like a snarl. But Yahaba couldn’t take him seriously, not at _all_ , considering that his hair was bleached blonde and had two stripes of brown over his ears. He looked like a _fucking bumblebee_ and Yahaba couldn’t take it.

“What the _hell_?” the guy spits, drawing him away from staring at his hair. “You wanna break down my _fucking door_ or something?”

“ _No_ , I want you to turn down your fucking music,” Yahaba shoots back, irritated. “I live next door and I can’t sleep, so _please_.”

Yahaba’s expecting a quick remark back, because if the guy can just come off angry at the get go, then there’s no way he would listen to him. But, surprisingly, his shoulders slump and his eyes cast downwards. It was almost like all his anger melted off of him, and all it left behind was something that looks a lot like embarrassment and nervousness, at least to Yahaba. The transformation leaves him blinking.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t… mean…” he trails off, still looking at the floor as his hand comes up and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll turn it off, sorry.”

“You don’t need to turn it _off_ ,” Yahaba says, still a little shocked at how quick the guy changed, “just… keep it down a little, maybe?”

“Oh.” The guy looks up now, an odd something gleaming in his golden eyes, and Yahaba has to swallow something that suddenly finds itself at the back of his throat. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Yahaba says, nodding. “Well, uhm, good night, I guess? And sorry for, you know, yelling at you.”

“It’s fine,” the guy says, shrugging a little. “It happens a lot, I’m used to it.” Yahaba has to pretend that the words don’t hurt him, like the guy didn’t just admit to a total stranger that he was used to being verbally brutalized. “Well, night,” the guy says, shutting the door after giving him a small upturn of the corners of his lips.

Yahaba stands there for a couple seconds afterwards, completely dumbfounded, before turning back to his apartment. He collapses into his bed, pulls his covers over his head, and prays his heart stops hammering long enough for him to get some sleep.

* * *

Working at the convenience store isn’t the ideal job, Yahaba will admit, but it pays enough and gives him flexible hours so he can actually go to class. Fuck medical school. There were times like these, standing behind the counter in a dead store, where Yahaba questions his life choices.

But, he wants to help people. He hates the world he lived in, hates it because there are monsters made to kill and destroy, and innocent humans were killed all the time because of their lack of restraint. All he wants is help fight them, even if it means keeping the human death toll as low as possible.

Not that he wouldn’t physically fight in the first place. They all have to, at some point. At the thought, his hand flies to his hip, where his silver dagger sits in its holster, right next to the angry scar that rests above his waistline.

He was fifteen when he had his first fight in this stupid world. He fought for his life, fought the werewolf that attacked him as he waited for the train, fought with everything he had. He didn’t have a dagger then, didn’t have anything to protect himself. The only thing he could think of, while he was punching, hitting, flailing, was that a werewolf bite didn’t pass on the condition, and only the transmission of fluids did that.

He came out alive and well, but the scar stayed on his skin just like the resolve to do something about this bullshit stayed in his mind. A lot of people just go on with their lives unaffected, but Yahaba won’t. He can’t. He isn’t the best fighter, and he isn’t smart or brawny enough to be a hunter, so this is his only hope. He could do this, he could go into the medical field and help everyone who needs it.

He takes his hand off his dagger and busies himself with little things to do before he drives himself to boredom.

Something bangs onto the counter after a minute, and when Yahaba looks around, bumblebee guy’s there.

“Oh, it _is_ you,” he says, his face expressionless as he looks at Yahaba. “Hi.”

“Uh, hey,” Yahaba replies, pulling on a smile before his manager gives him another rant about customer service.  He flicks his eyes down to the things the guy threw down onto the counter and listlessly starts to ring him up. “So, I didn’t get your name yesterday,” he says, working deliberately slow.

“Kyoutani,” he says, and Yahaba smiles just a little. He opens his mouth, but is cut off quick enough. “Nice to meet you _properly_ , Yahaba,” he says, like it’s a jab, and Yahaba doesn’t know which brings him up short, the playfulness in his voice or the fact that he knew his name. He stops, holding a package of raw hamburger up to the scanner, and stares at him. The smile on Kyoutani’s face widens a centimeter. “You’re wearing a nametag.”

“Oh. Right! I knew that!” Yahaba says, ignoring the way his cheeks grow bright red. He gets back to work quickly enough, scanning everything else and tossing it orderly into plastic bags.

“Of course you did,” Kyoutani says.

“Hey, don’t get snarky with me,” Yahaba warns, handing him his bags. He takes them as he rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t mean it all. “See you later, Yahaba.”

“See ya, Kyoutani,” Yahaba sings mocking as he walks out the automatic doors. He doesn’t laugh at the bird Kyoutani flips him over his shoulder as he leaves, and he most definitely doesn’t like the way his name rolls off his tongue like it’s fucking water.

* * *

“Honestly, Yahaba, you have to get this done at some point. What are you stalling for?” Watari berates as he raids his fridge. Yahaba slumps forward in his seat at the small dining table he has, his forehead hitting his textbook harshly, at the chastising.

“I don’t wanna do it, Watari,” he whines, his words slurred against the fake wood. “It hurts my head and there’s just so much to remember and I’m tired…” He drags out the last word, whining more, and Watari clicks him tonuge at him.

“You chose this, dude,” he says lightly as he comes and sits down across from Yahaba. He waits a second, so that Yahaba starts whining again, before he sets a can of soda down right in front of his face. He guffaws as Yahaba jumps up, back as straight as a steel rod, his eyes crazed as he looks at the can like it’s a threat.

“Oh, shut up!” Yahaba yells, snatching the can and threatening to throw it at Watari’s head. He puts his arms up weakly, still practically dying of laughter, like they would be any match against Yahaba’s impromptu weapon.

“Oh… oh my god… Y-Yahaba, _your face_ ,” Watari wheezes, slumping in his chair and almost falling out of it.

“It’s really not that funny,” Yahaba says, pouting, as he snaps open the can and takes a swing. He hums lightly at the taste of the cream soda, and smiles just a bit before frowning at Watari once again. “And you have no right to talk, Hunter-In-Training.”

“I told you, I’m not gonna be a hunter. It’s-”

“‘ _Specialist In Preventive and Supportive Actions,_ ’ I know,” Yahaba says, mimicking Watari’s voice almost perfectly. “Trying to find those monsters is gonna be hard enough, you might as well be a hunter.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’m not killing them, Yahaba,” Watari says reproachfully. “I’ll actually be helping them to identify problem areas and get them whatever they need-”

“What difference will it make, really?” Yahaba says, taking another swig as Watari flicks open his own can. “It’s in their _nature_ , Watari, it’s not like therapy or whatever will change that.”

“But it could help,” Watari says fiercely, and Yahaba knows he touched a nerve. “And the more effectively I do my job, the less stressful yours will be, so just shut your pessimistic ass up.”

“ _My_ pessimistic ass?!” Yahaba yells.

“Yes, Mr. Nothing-Is-Ever-Gonna-Change,” Watari shoots him a playful sneer before he chugs almost half his can. “Anyways, didn’t you call me over to help you study?”

“Yeah, but it’s so-” Yahaba’s cut off by his doorbell, which makes the both of them freeze and turn towards the door.

“Expecting someone?” Watari asks, shifting his gaze back to Yahaba as he raises an eyebrow. “Two-timing on me already, Shigeru? Such nerve.”

“Shut up, Watari,” Yahaba says, getting up and throwing a hand towards Watari before heading towards the door. He throws the door wide open and is about to say something when he realizes who’s at the door. “K-Kyoutani! Hi!”

“Uh, hey,” he says, looking at him with wide eyes, before casting his eyes downwards once again.

“W-What’s up? Need anything?” he says, leaning against the doorframe almost awkwardly. Kyoutani blinks at him, and Yahaba can tell he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Not really, I was just wondering if you could show me around town since I don’t know much-” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes trailing off Yahaba and past him. His eyes grow impossibly wide as he sees Watari eyeing him curiously from the table, and he takes a step back. “But I’m interrupting something, sorry, I’ll just, leave.” He takes another step back, looking a little embarrassed, and Yahaba knows that he just really, really doesn’t want him to leave.

“No, no, you’re not interrupting anything!” He says, waving his hands around frantically. Kyoutani freezes, looking at him and then back at Watari warily. Yahaba whips around, gives Watari a look, before turning back to Kyoutani with a smile. “That’s just my friend. And… you can come in if you want.”

Kyoutani’s mouth pops open, looking a little dazed, before he shakes his head. “It’s alright, I’ll just… go. Sorry.” He’s already making to duck back to his own apartment, when Yahaba leans forward and grabs him by the wrist.

“Uhm,” Yahaba says, looking down at their nearly-joined hands and letting go of him. “I have class tomorrow, but… afterwards, I can show you around. But only if you’re free.”

“Yeah… sure,” Kyoutani says slowly, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. See you later, then?”

“Later,” Kyoutani affirms. He sends him a smile that makes Yahaba’s heart melt, before walking back to his own apartment door.

“Wow, Shigeru. Wow,” Watari harps as he shuts the door. Yahaba jumps, almost forgetting his friend was there, before turning around and giving him a look.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Yahaba says.

“You were totally willing to drop me, your studying, _and_ your impending fear of your test tomorrow, for that guy,” Watari deadpans, and Yahaba scoffs at the remark.

“You’re overreacting,” he says with a wave of his hand, grabbing his cream soda again and taking a measured drink. “He’s just my neighbor, and he’s new, so I thought I would help him. That’s all.”

“Yahaba.”

“And it’s not like I was getting anything done here, so a little break wouldn’t’ve hurt too bad.”

“ _Yahaba_.”

“What?”

“You like him,” Watari says easily, draining his can, crushing it in one fell swoop against the fake wooden table, and pulling Yahaba’s text book closer to him. All the while, Yahaba choked on his own spit and sputtered until he could breathe again, glaring at Watari.

“W- _What?_ Watari, what makes you think that I like my _neighbor_?!” he asks, scandalized. Watari doesn’t even give him a glance as he looks through the chapter Yahaba’s supposed to be studying.

“And I’m shocked that you would like _him_ , of all people,” he says flatly.

“What are you talking about!?” Yahaba asks, his cheeks going a vibrant shade of red. “I do _not_ like Kyoutani.”

“Of course you don’t, just don’t come crying to me when you’re in the middle of yet another gay panic.”

“That was one time, and _not_ a gay panic!”

“And denial isn’t a river in Egypt,” Watari deadpans. Yahaba opens his mouth to correct him, but Watari points dramatically at a spot in his text book and cuts him off. “SIM TIME. You’ve sealed the open chest wound of a forty-year-old male who was mauled by a feline shifter. Your assessment reveals that he is experiencing respiratory distress as well as disc-like pupil constriction. What should you do?”

Yahaba groans, collapsing onto his table top and banging his forehead. Watari laughs at his distress.

* * *

Yahaba knocks on Kyoutani’s door when his class is finished, brain fried after the grueling test he had to sit through. He should have waited, or at least let himself relax for a couple minutes, but he was still standing there, waiting for Kyoutani to answer the door.

“You look like shit,” someone says behind him, and as he turns around his hand goes flying to his hip. His fingers ruck up his shirt and touch the hilt of his dagger before he realizes that it’s only Kyoutani standing next to him. He looks good, dressed in an iconic tee and ripped jeans, his sneakers scuffed but not unwearable. Yahaba tries not to let his gaze linger too long, and especially not when he sees Kyoutani’s impossible wide golden eyes and his jaw slack.

“Ah, sorry,” Yahaba says letting his fingers fall slack at his side. “I was sort of expecting you to be inside.”

“I-It’s… It’s okay…” Kyoutani stutters out, obviously shaken up but Yahaba honestly doesn’t know by what. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him. He never gave him any reason to think he was going to hurt him, so why…? “I was, uhm… talking with the landlord, so…”

“Oh, Iwaizumi?” Yahaba asks, tilting his head to the side. “How’d that go?”

“Good, we talked a lot,” Kyoutani says, the corners of his mouth tilting up the slightest amount. “He said that he hates doing this landlord stuff, but his dad owned the property before, so he had no choice but to take over.” He sounded… amused, by the situation, but all Yahaba could think about was how strange it was.

“Iwaizumi… doesn’t usually make a habit of talking to his tenants, you know?” Yahaba says, making a frank face when Kyoutani gapes at him once again. “Especially about something as personal as that. You must be quite the charmer, huh?”

Okay, so maybe if he could take back that remark, he would. His face was practically burning, because _why would I say something like that? Like he would really be flirting with our landlord, what the hell am I thinking??_ But, Kyoutani’s face is better, and stops him from trying to control any damage that might have been brought along because of his comment. Wide eyes, red cheeks, and a stuttering mouth definitely looks good on him (even if his stupid _bumblebee_ haircut makes Yahaba not take him too seriously).

“I, uh, no, that’s… that’s not… I didn’t…” Kyoutani tries to get out, his fingers twitching at his sides after every start of his clarifications. It was like he wanted to gesticulate, but he wasn’t letting himself. Yahaba thought it was a little odd, but didn’t think anything of it.

“I was kidding,” Yahaba says, shaking off his own embarrassment in order to dispel Kyoutani’s too. The bumblebee blonde immediately relaxes after that, and it’s almost like what he said were the magic words. “Anyways,” Yahaba carries on, waving a hand nonchalantly, “are you ready for that tour?”

“Of course,” Kyoutani says, ducking an inch back inside his apartment to grab a set of keys that he shoves into his pants pocket before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

“Eager, much?”

“Kinda like to get to know where I’m living.”

Everything after that was… pretty smooth and pretty weird all at the same time. Yahaba easily guided Kyoutani through town, showing him the cheapest shops and his favorite books stores and one of the only blacksmiths in the area. But, throughout the whole time, Yahaba couldn’t help but notice Kyoutani’s quirks. He froze and peeked over every corner Yahaba turned, he chewed at the corner of his lip almost incessantly, and he flat-out refused to go anywhere near the blacksmith’s.

Yahaba can’t help but feel a little guilty for noticing all of them so easily. It wasn’t like he’s looking for something wrong with him (because the only thing he really thinks is wrong, is, well, _bumblebee_ ), it was just that he either had no clue he had so many quirks, or he was shit at hiding them all. And they were all so… telling, so unique to Kyoutani, that it makes Yahaba want to piece him together more.

What happened that made him so paranoid to walk down a street, let alone turn a corner? Why did he worry his lip so much, and why did he do it so unconsciously? Why wouldn’t he go into the only store that had what it takes to protect himself?

Yahaba feels stupid for wanting to know why his hair looked like a bumblebee’s ass, too.

Yahaba settles into bed for the night after dropping Kyoutani off next door and boiling himself some ramen. He should feel guilty about how his last thought before falling asleep is how the bitten corner of Kyoutani’s mouth would feel against his own, too, but he doesn’t.

* * *

“You know, I still don’t get what you see in him, exactly,” Watari says noncommittally as he lounges on Yahaba’s couch, feet in the other’s lap and a psychology text book open and propped up on his chest.

“Who are you talking about?” Yahaba tests, trying and failing to shove his feet off of him with his couple pages of notes.

“Uh, Kyoutani, duh. Your neighbor,” Watari says easily, barely even looking up from his book. He does, however, peek at him discretely over the edge of his pages, only to see Yahaba’s cheeks darken.

“W-Watari! I don’t like him!” he tries to defend again, pushing his feet off him once again, this time with a little more fervor. He’s successful, but instead now he has Watari’s toes on the tips of his shoes. “What makes you think I like him? Give me _reasons_.”

“Well, first, you sound like you need a tank of oxygen before, during, and after you talk to him.”

“I do _not_ -”

“Second off, I’m pretty sure you would do anything he told you to. If he told you to do anything, that is. He tells you to jump off a bridge and die, and you’ll ask him what kind of jump and fall, and if you should get a diving board to make it more entertaining.”

“I wouldn’t do _any_ of that, and you know it!”

“And, finally, you always like things that are bad for you.”

“What?” The last remark brings him up short, since Yahaba was expecting another jab from his best friend and all he’s met with is with sincere concern. “He’s my neighbor, Watari, and he’s a normal. How can he be bad for me?”

“Sorry, I was wrong,” Watari says quickly to counter that, shutting up Yahaba in an instant. “The final thing is that you’re too fucking dense to figure out basic common sense or piece together separate tidbits of information.”

“You can get out of my house if you’re going to be rude,” Yahaba sulks, knowing he doesn’t mean it.

“In order for it to be rude, it’d have to be true,” Watari answers, moving his feet back up to rest on Yahaba’s lap, knowing that he would never mean it.

* * *

So, it’s not like Yahaba stalks Kyoutani or anything, but he’s pretty sure that _he’s_ stalking _him_. He only comes into the convenience store when he’s working, and creepily enough, he does it so well that his co-workers don’t even recognize his face. And he’s definitely not stalking Kyoutani, even if he notices that he buys the same stuff almost every week.

No matter where he goes, no matter what, he always seems to pop up. Yahaba didn’t really know whether to be flattered, creeped out, or just plain annoyed. He wondered if asking if Kyoutani had a job would be insulting, but he decided against it. It’s not like he didn’t like the attention, anyways, Yahaba just wished he was more up front about it rather than hanging around corners and peeking at him through the store window from time to time.

But, besides stalking, they hang out a lot more. Well, “hanging out” would constitute more planning on both of their parts, so Yahaba can’t think of it as that. It’s more like tagging along with whoever finds the other first.

Yahaba catches Kyoutani going to the gym one morning, so he goes with. (They end up sparring for a long time, and while Kyoutani is shocked by how strong Yahaba is, Yahaba was impressed by how instinctual Kyoutani’s fighting skills is.) Another time, Kyoutani gets back from his “morning run” (which Yahaba thinks is disgusting, because who runs in the morning?) while Yahaba is leaving for his shift at the convenience store, so he walks him there.

It just keeps happening, and Yahaba can’t escape the nagging thought of Kyoutani’s stupidly fitting bumblebee head in the back of his mind.

“You could just ask him out and get it over with,” Watari says one night as he’s making the both of them pancakes for dinner. Yahaba almost spits out his water before swallowing it down harshly.

“I don’t even _like_ him, Watari,” Yahaba defends. “Drop it already.”

“Shigeru,” Watari says, turning off the stove to turn towards him. (That’s when he knows he’s serious; Watari stops baking for no mortal man.) “Stop denying yourself. It’s okay to be gay, just like you told me it’s okay to be demi.”

“Being demisexual is a lot easier to accept than being gay,” Yahaba pouts. “There’s no one really to tell you you’re wrong.”

“No one is telling you you’re wrong,” Watari says, giving him a stern look. “I’m just saying that… well, you don’t need to push away who you are, that’s all.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause after that, one where Watari turns back on the stove and continues cooking, and Yahaba stares down at the fake grain of the table and traces a pattern with his finger.

“Sorry about the whole… demi thing,” Yahaba says sullenly, honesty feeling bad for the comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Watari says. “But! Besides that! I’m surprised!”

“At what?”

“At the fact that you haven’t asked me what the pancakes are for!”

“I thought you just wanted pancakes.”

“No, stupid!” Watari says, finally finishing up and handing him a plate. He sits, and both of them have at least five pancakes stacked in front of them. “I finally landed that internship I was looking for!”

“You’re kidding me!” Yahaba shouts, smiling so wide his face feels like it’s going to fall off. “Shinji, that’s great!”

“I know! Social work is _incredibly_ hard to get into with internships but, here I am!” Watari says happily.

“Tonight we shall feast in happiness for the start of a new beginning!” Yahaba shouts as the both of them laugh and dig in.

* * *

Yahaba finds his life, soon after, to be inevitably, terribly lonely. Watari is almost constantly busy with his internship, and from what Yahaba gathers, he has at least three monsters’ cases to manage, care for, and check up on. He doesn’t really mind it, because he knows Watari has a lot on his plate and it’s important to him, but at the same time it would be nice to have his friend back for at least three minutes for a Skype call.

And, then, the strangest thing happens: Kyoutani starts disappearing too. At first, it’s nothing, like missing him around the corner as they both leave for the morning. And then it becomes him _intentionally dodging him_. Yahaba thinks it’s strange, how Kyoutani’s door will open slightly before slamming shut once more, or how Kyoutani will sprint off faster than light itself whenever he sees him.

Yahaba knows he shouldn’t miss Kyoutani’s company more than Watari’s, his _best friend_ , but then again, he doesn’t have a crush on Watari.

Ah, there we go. “ _Distance breeds fondness_ ,” right? Or something like that.

So maybe he does have a crush on Kyoutani, maybe he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter because _he’s fucking never around_. Which pisses Yahaba the hell off.

So, he does what he always does. He throws himself into his studies, his training, and his work. His brain feels fried, his body feels like he was ransacked by at least thirteen vampires, and he honestly feels like he could kill every customer that walks in with a stupid question, but he’s good. No down time, no time to think about his _stupidly attractive bumblebee neighbor next door_ , or his superbly successful social work intern best friend.

Maybe eating, drinking, sleeping, and general self-care are put on a couple backburners, because Yahaba finds himself awake at four in the morning, hungry as all hell, and wanting to make a fucking sandwich. But of course, his stupid self grabs a real knife instead of a butter knife, and all of sudden the peanut butter jar is being a dick. So, he decides that wedging the knife in between the jar and the lid will work, and now he has a bloody hand and a cut across his palm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Yahaba curses, dropping the knife and diving over the sink and turning on the tap. The water looks like something out of a horror movie than anything else, water mixing with blood and circling the tiny drain.

He’s a med student, he gots this, he should be able to wrap up a single cut. But no. He keeps his hand under the tap, the water stinging his palm like mad, and hangs his head.

He’s fucked. So fucked. What the fuck. He doesn’t have anything, he’s so stupid, there’s nothing he could do to stop this, he could have done something else, he shouldn’t have let himself go this far-

And then someone is pounding on his door like it was a matter of life and death, and Yahaba nearly chomps his heart in half, it leaps so quickly into his mouth. He swears again, grabs a towel, and presses it to the cut before he walks over to the door.

The moment he unlocks the door, it flies open, and standing behind it is none other than Kyoutani.

“What the fuck? What are you-?”

“Let me see it,” he says immediately, walking in, closing the door behind himself, and pulling Yahaba further into the apartment.

“What are you talking about? Nothing-”

“You woke up half the complex with your swearing, so just show me the fucking cut.”

“It’s just a scratch its, its fine, really,” Yahaba tries to say, to brush it off, to get him to _leave_ because there’s no way that Kyoutani can be in his house right now, _no way_.

“Are you a fucking idiot or somethin’? There’s blood running down your arm. Get the fuck over here,” Kyoutani sighs, exasperatedly, pulling him over to sit down on the couch. Yahaba almost scoffs at him, wanting to say something about being bossed around in his own house (and definitely not mentioning it that he kind of liked it, but that was the lack of sleep talking), but Kyoutani silences him with a look. The moment he was seated, Kyoutani grabs his hand, towel and blood and all, and slowly raises it above his head.

“Pressure and elevate, dumbass,” Kyoutani mutters, before letting go and moving away from him. Yahaba blinkes, wondering where he went, but the moment he looks again, Kyoutani’s right by his side, gauze and disinfectant in one hand and surgical tape in the other.

“H-How did you-?” Yahaba starts to ask slowly, disoriented, because there was no way he could have known where those were. It feels like the room is spinning and he doesn’t know _why_.

“When was the last time you ate something actually substantial?” Kyoutani grills. “When was the last time you slept like a decent fucking person? Fucker,” he swears, before throwing the towel halfway across the room and dabbing some disinfectant onto the gash.

Yahaba wants to say something, he really does, but words seem like too much, there was nothing he could say anyways. He couldn’t really flat-out say that since Kyoutani disappearance he’s been a mess. No, no, that’s not…

The next thing Yahaba knows is that he is waking up in his bed at noon, clean bandages on his hand, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on his kitchen counter.

It was only after scarfing down the sandwich that he remembers what happened the night before. And… he won’t even call it remembering. How could he? There was no way any of that could be accurate. Kyoutani couldn’t have known he was hurt, or helped him get fixed up, or… or actually cared, for that matter. He didn’t want anything to do with him, right? All that time was nothing, he wouldn’t actually be worried about him now.

Palm still stinging slightly, mouth still sticky with peanut butter, he swears to forget the whole thing.

It was nothing, right?

* * *

“You’ve got to get better than that, Yahaba,” Oikawa jeers as he lets Yahaba up to go grab his dagger. Yahaba snatchs it from the floor bitterly, giving Oikawa a little glare before shifting back into position.

“Would be better if you let my hand heal first,” Yahaba retorts, shifting his hold on the hilt, the dagger feeling awkward in his hand because of the bandages.

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Oikawa says. “And, what? You think a werewolf is going to stop just because you’re hurt? No, no, no, they’ll look for you if you’re hurt. Fight through the pain, Shigeru!” He coos his name the moment he lunges forward, slashing and striking out with his short sword. Yahaba barely dodges his attacks, making quick work of dancing away from the blade and slipping into position for an attack.

“Easy for you to say!” Yahaba shouts, his voice reverberating in the empty training room. “Top Hunter, jack of all trades, enough weaponry for at least two small militias in your back pocket,” he lists, every point a slash, a jab, a quick step around Oikawa’s attacks, “every single fight you find yourself in, you win. So what odds do I have?” Yahaba says, touching the tip of his dagger to the small of Oikawa’s back. He gapes, gasping for air and reveling in his victory, until he blinks at Oikawa’s frozen form. “You stopped.”

“Something’s wrong,” Oikawa says, sniffing slightly and immediately looking at his hand. “Who fixed up your hand?”

“I-I did, what are you-?”

“No one can bandage themselves up that neatly, not even you. So who did it?” Oikawa asks, voice carefully calm even though there was an edge he really can’t hide.

“Fine, my neighbor helped. Happy?” Yahaba says. “Actually… I wanted to talk to you about him.”

“Your neighbor?”

“Yeah. Because, well, I might have a crush on him, just a little, and so I guess that makes me gay. But I don’t really know how to tell him, especially since he hasn’t been around as much and I think he might be avoiding me.”

“You have a crush… on your neighbor… the same neighbor who bandaged up your hand?” Oikawa asks slowly.

“Yes, that’s literally what I just said,” Yahaba says, annoyed.

“You’re an idiot,” Oikawa scoffs, turning away from him and going to put his sword away.

“What?!” Yahaba says, jogging to catch up with him as he leaves the training room. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you doing this for, again?” Oikawa asks, stopping abruptly, and Yahaba almost crashes into him. “All the weaponry training, and medical school, and working? Why do you do it?”

“Because I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want other people to get hurt like I did,” Yahaba says, his hand straying to his hip, and the scar underneath the cotton of his shirt. “I want to stop those fucking monsters, you know that, Oikawa.”

“Then you’re going to get yourself hurt,” Oikawa says, his voice steel. Yahaba squints at him, confusion written all over his face. “You don’t realize it, do you?” Oikawa asks, softening a little when Yahaba becomes more confused. “Then love really is blind. Go home, Yahaba, we’re done for today.”

“I don’t understand what you’re-”

“You _will_. And when you do, then you can come to me and I’ll tell you ‘ _I told you so_.’ But right now, just go home and stay away from your neighbor.”

And with that, he walks out of the training room and leaves Yahaba standing there, alone, confused, and with the palm of his hand stinging slightly.

* * *

The walk back to his apartment is long and filled with things that Yahaba himself doesn’t really understand. He just doesn’t understand Oikawa at all. What was he even talking about? Nothing made sense. And now he can’t train, which means he had nothing to do. He sighs, and runs his uninjured hand through his hair. He’ll go for a run, then. A nice long run that’ll make his sides burn and leave him gasping for air-

He nearly bumps into Watari as he rounds the corner to go up the stairs to his apartment.

“Oh, shit, sorry- Hey!” Yahaba says, realizing who it is a second later. “How’s the internship coming along?”

“Yahaba!” Watari shouts, surprised. “It’s, uhm, it’s alright. It’s getting there. A lot of work, you know?” he says, looking up the stairs nervously.

“Were you waiting for me or something?” Yahaba asks, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Maybe he didn’t have to go on that run after all! He could be with Watari and everything would be-

“Uh, no actually, and I think it would be best if you left. Like, _right now_ ,” Watari states, drumming his fingers against the clipboard in his hands.

“What? Why? You can’t really-”

“Look, it’s nothing personal, it’s just that one of my client’s stipulations is that no one else is here, let alone _you_ , of all people, so if you would please-”

“Shinji, what are you-?”

“Yahaba.” The both of them look up the stairs, only to find Kyoutani halfway down them, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in shock. “What’re you doing here?” There’s something in his voice, maybe an edge, maybe a tiny bit of fear, that makes Yahaba blink. He sounds defensive, in the worst of ways, and he doesn’t understand _why_.

“I sort of live here. What are _you_ -?” Yahaba starts to counter, before his eyes shift to Watari. He looks nervous, tense, and he doesn’t under-

And then his eyes shift down to the clipboard in his hands, and the neat name printed in the corner of the page. “KYOUTANI KENTAROU”

Yahaba understands.

“You’re one of _them_?” Yahaba asks slowly as he shifts his gaze back up to Kyoutani.

“Yahaba, I can-”

“You can explain, right?” Yahaba finishes. “You can explain the fact that you’re a monster. What exactly is there to explain?”

“Wait, Shigeru, you really don’t understand,” Watari tries to mitigate, grabbing onto his shoulder to pull him back from Kyoutani, when he didn’t even realize he was advancing in the first place.

“I wasn’t understanding a lot of shit, lately, but now I understand _perfectly_ ,” Yahaba spits, shrugging Watari off of him and glaring back up at Kyoutani. “So what are you, huh? Werewolf, vampire? You can’t be one of the undead, they don’t move that fast. And you’re definitely _solid_ , so you’re no poltergeist.”

“And you see why I didn’t tell you I was a shifter right off the bat, now, huh?” Kyoutani spits back, anger welling up behind his eyes as he descends down the rest of the stairs. “You even smell old-fashioned.”

“At least it’s better than smelling ass whenever you meet someone, _mutt_ ,” Yahaba says, and he doesn’t care about the lack of self-control shifters have when they get angry, he’s out to _hurt_.

“Better than being some wanna-be Hunter who can’t even tell when a shifter’s right under their nose,” Kyoutani says, eyes narrowing and shoulders drawing together. “I thought you were a decent person-”

“And I thought you were a _person_.”

“Well, its looks like we’re both _fucking wrong_ , aren’t we?!” Kyoutani yells, hurt and rage laced in his voice.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Watari says, grabbing Kyoutani by his arm and dragging him away from Yahaba. They were nose-to-nose, ready to strike, _kill_. Watari could already see Yahaba’s hand twitching towards his dagger.

“Was lying to me a part of your internship, too? Keeping secrets from your best friend?” Yahaba tests.

“You’re irrational, Shige-”

“I didn’t want you knowing because I knew you would be like this, you ass!” Kyoutani explodes, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh, so I’m the ass when you’re the one who turned my best friend against me?” Yahaba says.

“He didn’t turn me against you, it’s just-”

“Maybe I did that so our relationship wouldn’t get fucked up, but I guess that failed, too!” Kyoutani yells. “Go ahead, Yahaba. Tell me everything I fucking did wrong, starting with not telling you I’m a shifter! But you’re the one that’s wrong when you were perfectly fucking fine with me when you thought I was human!”

“That’s only because you-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Watari yells, yanking Kyoutani’s arm and pulling him farther away from Yahaba. “The both of you, that’s enough. We got to get going anyways, Kyoutani.”

“Sure, run away again. I bet he’s the reason why you haven’t been talking to me, too,” Yahaba spits.

“Fucking mental…” Kyoutani breathes, already turning around and walking away. Watari looks between the two of them before Yahaba scoffs.

“Go with him, I don’t give a shit,” Yahaba says, making his way up the stairs.

“We’ll talk later, Shigeru,” Watari swears, before jogging to catch up with Kyoutani, and Yahaba pretends that he doesn’t hear him.

* * *

Yahaba tries not to stew on this for too long, he really does, but the more he thinks about it, the more things start making sense. Kyoutani stayed on his other side, the one away from his scar, the one away from _his dagger_ , his _silver_ dagger, one of the only metals that would do serious damage on any kind of monster. Kyoutani always bought some kind of meat when he came into the convenience store. He heard when Yahaba cursed when he cut himself, something that wouldn’t have been heard through walls, something that wouldn’t have been heard in the _other room_.

Kyoutani walked him places but didn’t let Yahaba follow him. He never looked tired after work outs or runs.

He wasn’t blacking out when he got hurt, _Kyoutani actually was that fast_.

His aggressive nature, the way he calmed down just as quickly, the way he looked ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but never when it came to Yahaba.

(The way Yahaba feels lonely without Kyoutani but not without Watari, the way seeing him made him feel better, he way he looked for him when he wasn’t there, the way everything was empty _without him_ …)

They were Bonded and Yahaba didn’t even know.

Bonding, the trickiest subject when it came to monsters, when it came to their _very being_. It was never researched, the monsters they captured never lived long enough to ask questions about bonding, but everyone knew it was important. Killing one Bonded monster was basically like killing the other; all that was left was an empty feeling with nothing else to lose.

The only thing anyone ever knew about Bonding was that it was something that had to be built, that a Bond was the product of a deep relationship or something neither monster wanted to lose or jeopardize.

Even now, Yahaba is practically burning with anger, with a desire for answers, with a desire for the truth, but there’s a small sense that he would want nothing else but to hash this all out with Kyoutani _now_.

Yahaba was _Bonded_. The reality of it made him want to punch something. Human and monster Bonds was unheard of. Even if things were “better,” even if there were no longer Hunts, even if there was barely any judgement left. And here Yahaba is, Bonded with his shifter of a neighbor, not even knowing it.

Oikawa was right, he really was an idiot.

* * *

An hour later, Kyoutani is banging on his door, hollering things that Yahaba memorizes, that he runs through his head over and over, things that will probably live in his worst nightmares.

(He sounds so desperate, so scared, so tentative to move on but not wanting to have a rift between them like before. He sounds like the world would end if they don’t solve this now.)

Kyoutani yells himself hoarse. Yahaba can hear the catches in his throat, the stutters in his words, the faltering of his knocks, the things that, even if he hasn’t seen him like this before, let Yahaba know that he’s crying.

Yahaba doesn’t open the door, and doesn’t wipe the tears off his face. That would mean admitting he was crying in the first place.

* * *

Watari arrives at his door the next day, and Yahaba begrudgingly lets him in. Watari sets the muffins he brought on the small excuse of a dining table before sitting down next to Yahaba on his couch. It’s an awkward minute before either of them say anything, Yahaba refusing to meet his eye.

“Are you okay?” Watari treads carefully, leaning forward to at least be on the edge of Yahaba’s vision.

“Okay with the fact that Kyoutani is a shifter? Oh, yeah, totally,” Yahaba scoffs, not enough bite in his voice to be anything more than a weak attempt at sarcasm.

“I’m honestly so sorry that I couldn’t tell you,” Watari rushes to say, shifting closer. “I really wanted to say something, but he told me not to tell you, and confidentiality is part of our policy-”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Yahaba says.

“You… you really didn’t know, though?” Watari asks. “I thought you of all people would be the first to figure out that he was, you know, a canine shifter.”

“He’s a canine?” Yahaba says, slightly shocked by the revelation. But it makes sense, the lingering around, how he was always in the general vicinity, it was the possessiveness canine shifters usually develop on things important to them. The revelation doesn’t sit well in his stomach, and it feels like the world is lurching ever so slightly.

“You, _you of all people_ , should’ve been able to figure that one out,” Watari said, almost laughing as he hangs his head and shakes it slightly. “I could tell the moment I saw him.”

“What?” Yahaba practically yelled, glaring at him. “How? What gave it away?” What he was really wondering was how could he have been so blind, but the words were too much to say and, honestly, he didn’t want to know the answer.

“The hair.” This time, Watari _did_ laugh at Yahaba, because he gave him such an incredulous look, it was hard not to find it funny. “All shifters have an unusual hair color or pattern, because it matches their fur in their Shift. Kyoutani’s hairstyle is so unique, I _knew_ he was a shifter.”

“Why… why did I not know that?” Yahaba asked, holding his head in his hands. This is bad, so so so bad on so many levels. Everyone knew but him, and now… now they were bonded…? He was shocked out of his thoughts by Watari’s hand on his shoulder.

“Because you’re so caught up in your hatred for all things ‘Monster’ that you don’t even try to learn the basics about them outside of Monsterology 101,” Watari says, and Yahaba raises his eyes to meet his. “I know what happened all that time ago shook you up, I get that. But at the same time, not all ‘Monsters’ are the same. You just haven’t opened your eyes yet.”

 Yahaba wants to look away, wants to kick Watari out, wants him to leave, because he’s right, because he wants to say everything he knows he can’t say out loud. But he can’t bring himself to. Instead, all he does is sit there and chew on the inside of his cheek while he stares at Watari’s warm smile.

“We’re Bonded.” He hears the words in a voice other than his, and then he realizes that he’s crying, throat closing and eyes watering. His resolve shatters, and soon Watari is holding onto him as he sobs. He babbles incoherently about one thing or another, and if asked what he said later, he probably won’t remember.

All he remembers is how Watari calmed him down, muttered “it’s alright, you’re okay,” over and over until he believed it.

* * *

Watari leaves a couple hours later, when Yahaba is calm and he’d cried all he needed to and Watari had made him all the pancakes he could ever hope to eat in his lifetime. He leaves, though, with a warning tone and a forceful suggestion that Yahaba should talk to Kyoutani _soon_. The prospect sits heavily in his stomach and makes him procrastinate for three hours.

Yahaba plucks up the nerve to see if Kyoutani is even _home_ when the moon is high and the stars are bright. He’s tired of the pleasant warmth in his chest that comes and goes whenever he thinks of Kyoutani, is tired of the irritating clamminess of his hands when he thinks about the issue at hand, can’t stand the idea of sleep when there’s something big like this to face. And so, he slips on his shoes and leaves his apartment.

He’s stopped by a hulking yellow dog sitting at his doorway, front paws folded neatly under its jaw as its great golden eyes stare at his front door. Yahaba freezes as it perks up, eyes growing wide and body tensing, before flying to its feet and darting out of his way. The light falls better on it now, and Yahaba can see two brown stripes starting at the corner of its eyes and trailing down to the tips of its tail. On a smaller scale, it would look like…

“K-Kyoutani?” Yahaba stutters, his heart awkwardly banging in his ears, so loud that he’s sure Kyoutani can hear it, too. The dog nods slightly, its ears pressing against its head, before it closes it eyes slowly. For a second, Yahaba doesn’t know what’s going on, until the dog isn’t a dog anymore, it’s a blur, and the blur moves out of his sight.

The next thing he knows is that Kyoutani’s apartment door opens and closes rapidly, and then Kyoutani is standing there in a red tank top and a pair of blue basketball shorts.

“Uh, sorry, I couldn’t… I just…” Kyoutani tries to explain, not looking at him; the “ _I just wanted to be closer to you_ ” goes unsaid.

“We’re Bonded…” Yahaba breathes, voice too soft to be heard, but the way Kyoutani’s eyes widen, he’s sure he heard.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for any of that to happen-” he rushes to say, before he stops himself and looks away again.

“Is that part of the reason why you didn’t tell me, too?” Yahaba asks, hugging his arms closer to himself.

“I didn’t want you knowing because it’s _weird_ ,” Kyoutani says, finally looking at him fully. “Bonding isn’t… it doesn’t work like this. It’s not supposed to be a shifter and a human. I didn’t want either of us in trouble if it, you know, got out that we were Bonded.”

Yahaba feels so much worse now. All he was trying to do was keep them both safe, and he yelled at him and was terrible, _horrible_ , to him.

“I’m sorry,” Yahaba blurts out. “I treated you like crap, and I shouldn’t have and… I’m sorry.”

“You’re… okay? With being Bonded, I mean,” Kyoutani says, taken aback by the sudden topic change.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Yahaba says, “but I’m not opposed to it.” Kyoutani hesitates for a moment, but a second later he surges forward, hugging Yahaba so fiercely that Yahaba’s thrown off balance. He topples over, and expects pain, but the only thing he feels is the lightning-quick movement of Kyoutani sliding his hand to the back of his head, keeping it from hitting the ground.

“Holy shit, sorry! I didn’t mean that, I swear,” Kyoutani rushes to say, propping himself up so that he’s above Yahaba instead of sprawled out over him.

“What did you _mean_ to do, then?” Yahaba asks, cracking a smile.

“Uh, hug you?” Kyoutani answers uncertainly.

“So you tackle me?” Yahaba chuckles. “Have you hugged anyone before?”

“Yes!” Kyoutani retorts, rolling his eyes at him. “What do you think I am? Some hermit that doesn’t do anything more than take extra shifts at work and slave over casework?”

“I did that because of you, idiot,” Yahaba says, sitting up. They shift, so that they’re sitting side by side on the floor in between both of their apartments. Nothing really needs to be done, not now, not when their hands are brushing and the moon was shining down on them like it was made to shine for just this moment.

“Now what?” Yahaba asks. “We kiss, get together, and live happily ever after?”

“Probably not,” Kyoutani says, shaking his head. “We need to figure out how this is going to work, and probably find some way to hide that we’re Bonded, and then there’s the Association we need to worry about.” Kyoutani meets Yahaba’s confused gaze, and rolls his eyes. “I’ll explain later. We can start with that kiss, though.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update! College is just about to start, and it's crazy but I love it so far!

“Gray?! Why gray?” Yahaba screeches as both Watari and Kyoutani drag him into the bathroom.

“So you can look like a Shifter, Shigeru,” Watari explains, a shit eating grin on his face. “I told you all shifters had a usual hairstyle, so this’ll help at least let you pass as a Monster.”

“Plus, your hair will reflect how much of an old man you actually are,” Kyoutani quips, snapping his gloves before tossing Watari a pair. Yahaba squawks at the remark and tries to hit Kyoutani, but the bumblebee-haired boy only dodges his attempt. “Relax, idiot, it’ll be fine,” he chastises lightly flicking his forehead.

“Oh, sure, relax as everything about me is going to be changed possibly forever,” Yahaba says, rolling his eyes at him.

“Drama queen,” Kyoutani mutters.

“That’s rich, coming from the bumblebee,” Yahaba says, glaring at him.

“ _What_ did you call me?” Kyoutani says lowly, not exactly a growl, but not a statement either.

“You heard me!”

“Wow, are all Bonded pairs this self-centered?” Watari says loud enough to break them out of their little spat. Kyoutani looks at him blankly, while Yahaba blinks owlishly at him. “The both of you totally forgot about me. So, are they?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re-” Yahaba says, the same time Kyoutani says, “Yeah, usually.”

“Perfect. I guess I’ll get used to it, then,” Watari sighs, before lifting his eyes to level a devilish look at Yahaba. “Let’s get started, then.”

About two hours later, Yahaba stares at his reflection is awe as he sees himself, only with silver on top of his head and above his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure this is how I’m going to look in fifty years,” Yahaba says, running a hand through his slightly damp, now perfectly gray hair.

“If you live that long,” Kyoutani remarks, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You look fine.”

“Yeah, Shigeru! You look great!” Watari chirps innocently, reaching up and doing the same to his other cheek.

“WATARI!” Yahaba yells, lunging at his best friend and wrestling him to the floor. Watari only laughs at him while Kyoutani slumps against the bathroom wall, laughing so hard he can’t stand on his own. “Why would you do that?!” Yahaba says, struggling as Watari starts to fight back.

“Because your face is funny, Shigeru,” Watari says, getting the upper hand quickly and pinning Yahaba to the floor, one hand at his neck, the other pinning his shoulder. Yahaba taps the floor immediately. “You should really find someone else to spar with other than Oikawa.”

“Who?” Kyoutani asks, coming out of his laughing fit steadily, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“I spar with Kyoutani, too,” Yahaba says, getting up and rubbing at his neck.

“I don’t even want to know what ‘sparring’ means to the two of you,” Watari says, putting his hands up and motioning like he was literally trying to push the issue aside.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” Yahaba asks, face going red.

“Well, Shifters usually are very possessive of the things they care about. I only thought it would be natural if Kyoutani slated some kind of claim on you by now,” Watari says off-handishly. Yahaba looks like he might die and Kyoutani looks disgusted.

“I’d never touch him like that, you know that!” Kyoutani growls, throwing his hands up. “Why’d you even say that?”

“Because I thought since the Bonding was mutual, that would change things!” Watari argues.

“No! Never! It…. It won’t happen.” Kyoutani almost looks pained when he says it, but he pushes it aside.

“What are you guys talking about?” Yahaba says, looking confusedly in between the two.

“If it’s going over your head, then you obviously don’t need to know!” Kyoutani snaps.

“I just wanted to know!” Yahaba argues, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Well you don’t need to know!” Kyoutani shoots back.

“And I wondered why Bonded pairs were so rare,” Watari says, once again breaking them out of their fight. “You two are literally made for each other.” Before they could argue, Watari yawns loudly and walks out of the bathroom, hips swinging as he sings, “I’m making pancakes!”

* * *

It takes a while for Yahaba to get used to his new, nickel-gray hair, mostly because Kyoutani snickers and calls him “old man” every chance he gets. (Granted, his laughs are kind of cute, but being made fun of made Yahaba burn with irritation).

Oikawa took it as much of a shock as he did when he walked in for their next sparring session. He basically squawked in indignation when he walked into the gym with a shock of gray hair, but the initial surprise was drowned out by him wrinkling his nose, turning away, and advising Yahaba to stay away from his damned neighbor.

Yahaba doesn’t tell him that that’s physically impossible, otherwise he’d feel empty and dead on the inside. He doesn’t tell him that they’re Bonded. He doesn’t tell him that he’s no longer his neighbor, but his roommate. He just goes along, brushes off Oikawa’s comment, and fights like he wants to rip his head off (because the comments sting, they _burn_ , he craves for Oikawa to understand but knows he’ll lose him the moment he says anything about Kyoutani).

And so, it’s a process. Everything is a process and it takes Watari to pet his head, tell him everything is going to work out, and to give it some time, for him to understand that. Kyoutani won’t say that, ever, not so directly, not even when they crawl into bed and he pulls Yahaba close despite being the smaller one. He won’t say what he doesn’t believe is true, after all, and Yahaba can feel the unease rocking through him like waves any time Watari says anything along the lines of “you guys will be fine.”

* * *

“C’mon Yahaba, wake up,” Kyoutani says, pinching his cheeks together, turning his head, and pressing a small kiss to the tip of his nose. Yahaba makes a face, and shakes his way out of Kyoutani’s grip with a little grunt.

“Watimesit?” Yahaba grumbles, turning onto his other side, facing Kyoutani now, and opening his eyes a centimeter.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kyoutani says, carding a hard through Yahaba’s hair quickly. “I made eggs.”

“You always do,” Yahaba slurs, before sitting himself up and rubbing at his eyes. He blinks once, twice, before glancing at the window and sees that it’s still dark out. “Kyou-?”

“I’m explaining today,” Kyoutani says, perching himself on the side of the bed. Yahaba moves his legs to accommodate him more. “Watari and I talked it out, and we have a solid game plan now. I think it’s time you know what hell we both walked into.”

“Hell?”

“You’ll understand,” Kyoutani says, getting up and smiling at him. “But breakfast is getting cold. Hurry up.”

After Yahaba’s finished eating, Kyoutani shrugs the jacket he was wearing off his shoulders and throws it at Yahaba’s head. He nearly drops his dishes in the sink, but saves them just in time.

“What the hell-?” he screeches, ripping the jacket off his head and staring at Kyoutani accusatorily.

“You’re wearing that today,” Kyoutani announces, slipping past and grabbed his dishes out of his hands. “I got them, go get ready.”

“You’re awfully nice today, shit,” Yahaba mumbles, walking towards their room, as Kyoutani chuckles half-heartedly at his back. He can feel the anxiety flowing off Kyoutani in waves, so it doesn’t make sense that he’s making himself this soft. If anything, he should be agitated, a mess, or something more like his Shift than more like… well, a plush version of his actual self.

(Yahaba instantly thinks of a giant plush bumblebee, and he laughs at his own joke hard enough that he almost topples over as he tries to wrestle himself into his favorite jeans.)

 By the time he’s ready, Kyoutani’s Shifted, sitting curled up at the front door with a stack of clothes resting between his folded paws and his chin. Yahaba freezes for a second, still not as used to Kyoutani’s Shift as much as he’d like to be, but the dog’s golden eyes feel warm, feel like home, so he lets himself breath once again. He gets a bag for Kyoutani’s clothes and locks the door after them once everything’s situated.

The dog grabs the hem of Yahaba’s borrowed jacket and tugs at it, before letting it go and jerking its head forward. Without words, Yahaba knows exactly what Kyoutani’s trying to say: “ _Follow me. Don’t ask questions. Not yet_.”

So, he listens.

Now, its weird to go out in public and follow a ferocious-looking yellow dog around, but Yahaba doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when Kyoutani growls at seemingly random people, but he knows it’s because their eyes linger too long on either him or Yahaba, or when he sits down patiently next to a stoplight and looks over his shoulder at a trailing Yahaba, tongue lolling out slightly.

Not that Yahaba liked Kyoutani in his Shift more than usual, but he could get used to it easily enough.

Kyoutani ends up slinking into a woodsy part of town, one that’s been famed for housing all sorts of Monsters for decades. It’s past any sort of transportation, and a quick check of his phone assures him that it’s past all forms of signal, too. His steps grow hesitant, wary, before Kyoutani stops. He barks at him twice, and when he doesn’t get the correct response, he trots behind Yahaba and nudges him with his nose until he _forces_ him to move.

They end up stopping at the edge of a cliff, one with a beautiful overview of the rest of the area and the edge of the next city over. Yahaba stares at the view for a second, awed, before there’s a whine from Kyoutani. He looks quickly, only to see a flash of white light, and then there’s a naked Kyoutani standing in the middle of the forest with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Gonna stare, or are ya gonna give me my clothes?” Kyoutani jokes, shifting his hips a bit as Yahaba gapes.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yahaba hisses, even though the words don’t have bite, and tosses him the bag. He _doesn’t_ let his eyes wander as Kyoutani pulls on his clothes, and he _doesn’t_ smile at Kyoutani as he chuckles at him.

“You’d think you’d be used to seeing me like that by now,” Kyoutani chastises, pulling at a lock of Yahaba’s hair before sitting down at the edge of the cliff.

“Can’t believe you dragged me out into a forest to give me a reverse strip tease,” Yahaba retorts, settling down next to him. “You’re going to have to make it up to me somehow, you know?”

“That’s what breakfast was for,” Kyoutani says with a smirk.

“Gee, thanks,” Yahaba muses, rolling his eyes and kicking his feet out as they dangled off the edge of the cliff. “So, the truth, right?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Kyoutani says, shifting a bit, almost like he was uncomfortable. “Look, it’s a long explanation, so if you have any questions just stop me, okay?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll get it.”

“Fine,” he says, taking a deep breath before starting. “When Monsters first became prominent in the Outside World, it was dangerous. Hunters, poachers, hitmen, you name it. Monsters were being killed left and right. Bonding was… sort of like a kind of evolution. They Bonded with the Monster that they would have the best chance of surviving with. Most of the time, they were the same type of Monster, but it varied. They hunted the same, fought the same, sometimes they were so alike, it was rumored they were the two sides of the same coin.

“But it was dangerous. Bonded pairs couldn’t leave each other’s side, and when Hunters figured that out, they stole one Bonded, and lured the other in. They lost so many Monsters that almost all of us died out.” Kyoutani looks up and out, towards the view of a million trees and a city far away. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “They decided a long time ago, that one Monster from every species would gather together, and find a balance that would work. And so, the Association was born.

“They made rules that would protect Monsters from Hunters. They kept regulations on Bonded pairs and made sure they had special trainings to go to. They formed organizations that would study Hunters, find out how they trained, and found ways to undermine them. And, when enough time passed, the Association bargained with humans to create peace.

“The original Association’s goal was to keep the peace, protect the Monsters who needed it most, and find ways to protect the ones that didn’t need it, too. They made bases and underground cities when peace became unsteady, when humans decided they didn’t need peace. They were good. And then the next generation took over.

“The new Association is based on greed and anger. They fight for what they call ‘equality,’ but in reality, they want the roles switched; they want the humans to be the ones hiding, and Monsters the ones who are on top. We don’t need to listen to them, and we never have. That’s why so many of us are just out here, trying to be normal.”

“So what’s the issue?” Yahaba says. “So, it’s this incredibly power-hungry group, but they have no real control. So why do we-?”

“ _The issue is that they have rats_ ,” Kyoutani growls, glaring at Yahaba in incredulousness and irritation. “They’ll kill to get what they want, and they’re starting to show it. Everyone that’s trying to be normal now are actually in hiding. They’re _killing_ everyone that goes against their goals of ‘equality.’ They have spies that fish them out, they bring them in, and they test them until they drop. And then they corrupt them and turn them into their new flock of cronies,” Kyoutani explains hastily. “ _That’s_ what I’m trying to get at. If they think, even for a second, that we’re Bonded, a Shifter and a human, they’ll _kill us on the spot_. We directly go against everything they stand for. They’ll think of us as a symbol for actual peace and a threat to their mission, and they’ll hunt, stalk, and kill us the moment anyone finds out. _That’s_ why we dyed your hair, _that’s_ why you’re wearing my jacket now, _that’s_ the big issue,” Kyoutani finishes with a huff, his glare softening just a bit as Yahaba’s eyes grow infinitely larger.

“We’ll be killed?” Yahaba echoes, looking a little shaken by the words.

“I dragged you into this,” Kyoutani says, not meeting his eye. “I’m sor-”

“So what do we do?” Yahaba asks, cutting him off. Kyoutani blinks before giving him an incredulous look. “I mean, I got the look down, and I’m guessing we sleep together and I’m wearing your stuff to drown out my scent. But that’s not enough, is it? What’s the game plan?”

“Watari and I came up with a couple possibilities, but we’ve only really decided on two things,” Kyoutani says. “One is that he’ll be in charge of teaching you more about Monster culture, especially Shifters, since that’s what we’ll play you off as. And the other is that I’ll help with self-defense and your overall disguise.”

“What about after?” Yahaba questions. “That can’t be our final plan. We’ll get caught eventually.”

“We’re _working on it_ ,” Kyoutani says. “but for now it’ll have to do.”

“What about you?” he asks. “What do you guys have to protect you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my _job_ to worry about you.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll be fine, Yahaba.”

The “ _as long as you’re fine, I’m fine_ ” goes unsaid, and Yahaba really wish it didn’t so he could say something about it.

* * *

“Welcome back,” Watari says from the kitchenette as Yahaba and hulking-bumblebee-dog-Kyoutani waltz back inside his apartment. Kyoutani barks once, the sound high and clear, before taking the bag with his clothes in between his teeth and darting into their room.

“So what? You live here now?” Yahaba asks, making sure to lock the door behind them. Watari laughs at his remark, before rummaging through the fridge and tossing him a cream soda.

“Shigeru, I lived here even before this whole fiasco began,” he sassed back. Yahaba only rolled his eyes at him before collapsing down at the not-so-dinner table. “So, you know now, right?”

“I wish I was a part of the plan-making process, but, yes,” Yahaba says, snapping his can open and taking a swig. “It’s just… I thought it was a societal thing. I didn’t know we had the whole Association up our-”

“Careful,” Watari warns, shooting him a dangerous glare. “Kyoutani told you they got their rats, right? That means you need to be careful about what you say about… _that_.”

“That’s why he dragged me into the middle of nowhere to talk about it?” Yahaba muses, right before Kyoutani slips out of the room and ruffles his hair roughly.

“That was one of the original Association’s first Monster sanctuaries,” Kyoutani says. “When the new one took over, almost all of them were abandoned by officials, so it’s become one of the very few Free Spaces.”

“You really took him-”

“To a place infested with Monsters?” Kyoutani fills in, cocking an eyebrow as he digs through the fridge. “Of course I did.”

“K-Kyoutani!” Yahaba hisses, scandalized.

“I was testing to see if the scent thing we have going on now is enough,” Kyoutani says flippantly, shaking a can of cream soda as he closes the fridge. Watari gives him an interested look, like he was expecting him to go on. “It seems pretty solid, but I feel like there needs to be something… _more_.”

“You know, if you just-”

“ _I’m not_ -”

“Hello? I’m still here, you know?” Yahaba says, giving them both unimpressed looks. The both of them snap out of their little squabble quick enough. Kyoutani has red spots placed high on his cheeks, and Yahaba wonders when they got there. “And I have no idea what the both of you are talking about.”

“Wanna know the reason why Kyoutani’s been all over you? Like, sleeping in the same bed, touching you, making you wear his clothing, etcetera?” Watari says, looking a little smug. Yahaba raises a skeptical eyebrow and Kyoutani puts his head in his hands.

“He already knows…”

“Because _your_ natural scent screams ‘ _human_ ,’ and the minute someone notices your Bond with him, you’re dead. So…” Watari pauses for dramatic effect, giving Kyoutani a sidelong look, “he’s been trying to rub his scent off you so that you smell more like a Monster than a human. _Of course_ , there are more _efficient_ ways to do this, _but_ -”

“But you _know_ I’m not going to do that,” Kyoutani hisses, giving him a glare. Watari just laughs.

“Just because it’s unconventional doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Yahaba questions, following the explanation up to now.

Watari sings, “Oh, nothing~” at the same time Kyoutani barks, “Don’t worry about it!”

“Oh, right!” Watari says, hopping on the balls of his feet before rushing over to the couch. He picks something up, and tosses it at Yahaba quickly. He catches it deftly, and it turns out to be a book with the title “ _Of Monsters and Men: A Comprehensive Guide to All Things Monstrous_ ” embossed on the front. “That’s the first part of your homework from me. Read it cover to cover, okay?”

Yahaba nods, Kyoutani groans, and Watari positively _grins_.

“I’m going for a run,” Kyoutani spits, leaving his unopened can of soda on the counter. “I can’t look at you for another second,” he says, giving another glare to Watari. As he’s walking out, he pauses in front of Yahaba before slipping his hand onto his cheek, tilting his face up, and kissing him softly.

“What?! I don’t get one?!” Watari shouts, a hint of a laugh in his voice as Kyoutani lets him go and stalks to the door.

“Fuck off!” he shouts, slamming the door. Watari chuckles.

“Why do you have to tease him?” Yahaba sighs, cracking the book open.

“Because it’s fine, and he can’t hurt me because he knows you have a silver knife.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Oikawa, I can’t-” Yahaba says, running a hand through his hair and sighing before looking back up at him.

“Why can’t you?” Oikawa spits harshly, his eyes slits. “He’s _dangerous_ , Yahaba, even you can smell it. So why can’t you just listen to me and _leave him alone_?” He’s upset in every sense of the word, and it takes everything in Yahaba not to break down and tell him.

Oikawa’s always been there for him, even before he got attacked, and they’ve always been close. They told each other everything, and Oikawa was something he could never be but something he wanted to shoot for. He was everything he wasn’t, but he was inspiration, he was motivation, he was a gaudy ray of sunshine through a bunch of gray clouds. It hurt that he couldn’t keep him close, but he couldn’t push him away, either.

“I… I _can’t_ ,” he decides to stress again, clenching his fists. “Oikawa, you don’t get it, and I can’t explain it to you, but-”

“I get that you’re intentionally putting yourself in danger by spending time with a _Shifter_.” Oikawa turns on his heel and stalks into the training room. Shocked, Yahaba blinks after him before grabbing his own sword and following him in.

“I didn’t think you’d want to train…” Yahaba said, walking in on Oikawa stretching. He mimicked his movements easily.

“If you’re not gonna leave him alone, I figure I might as well make sure you know what you’re up against,” Oikawa says, shrugging a little before moving onto the next stretch. “Besides, it’s not every day you stand up to me. It must be important.”

“You… you understand?” Yahaba asks, faltering a little.

“Of course not,” Oikawa answers immediately, “but I’m not letting some Monsters hurt you because you’re not prepared.”

“He _won’t hurt me_ ,” Yahaba says exasperatedly, and he gets Oikawa’s high, sarcastic laugh as a reply.

“Shigeru, please,” he says, standing to his full height before shifting into a dueling stance, “he’s a Monster. They always hurt humans in the end.” He lunges forward, smacking the broad edge of his sword to the back of Yahaba’s calves, flipping him onto his back. Yahaba takes a moment to get his breath back. “I really don’t want to see you hurt,” Oikawa says, a frown on his face, before the duel really begins.

* * *

It’s abrupt, and that’s probably the only reason why Yahaba notices it, but people have started to treat him differently.

A lot more people shy away from him on the street, almost like he wore a label on his shirt that read: “I’M DANGEROUS” It’s annoying, because it’s not like he’s glaring people down or acting suspicious. The only thing that might be a little odd is his hair, and even then, it’s nothing really to call home about.

People at work are also starting to act strange. His co-workers steadily talk less to him and find some empty busy work to get done instead of standing behind the counter with him to shoot the shit. He didn’t really mind his co-workers, they were just some people he had to deal with, after all, but it still hurt to be distanced from like that.

But, weirdly enough, some of the customers are acting pretty nice. Most of the times, the regulars are dicks and the people who mill about occasionally don’t care, but now… Well, it’s weird, but it’s like they’re going out of their way to smile at Yahaba, make polite conversation, and even ask questions about how he’s doing. It’s strange, and Yahaba doesn’t think that he’ll get used to it any time soon.

And then, in a spark of true, unprecedented genius, he realizes that it’s because of Kyoutani. Sure, he’s been going with him wherever he goes more often than not, but he’s literally masked by the scent of him every day. They share a bed, share an apartment, and Kyoutani always makes sure he’s wearing something that practically screams “ _Canine Shifter_ ” in one whiff.

Apparently, people are starting to notice. And Yahaba’s been paying attention. He knows how to read people, their disgust at his seemingly shift towards the Monster side, and he sees people soften as he walks by, too, comforted by the thought of someone like them in the same situation.

Yahaba decides that he likes the feeling of being some people’s bane of existence and other’s strength.

* * *

Yahaba’s lounging on the couch with his nose stuck in his medical book when someone knocks on the door. He groans, the book flopping down onto his face before he throws it to the side and rolls off the couch. He stumbles to his feet, but Kyoutani’s already pulling the door open.

“ _God,_ you reek,” a familiar voice says, and Yahaba’s eyes widen.

“And you must be Oikawa,” Kyoutani says, sneering. The air practically crackles with tension between them, and Yahaba moves to push Kyoutani behind him and steps in front of Oikawa.

“Hey!” he says, his voice saturated with false cheer. “What brings you here? I wasn’t really expecting any-”

“Company?” Oikawa says flatly, looking past Yahaba and at Kyoutani instead. “Obviously, you already had someone in mind.” Kyoutani growls at the remark because his tone was basically scorning his presence. Yahaba’s hand blindly finds Kyoutani’s from behind his back and gives it a squeeze.

“He was my next door neighbor, and now he’s my roommate,” Yahaba sighs, and he pauses when he sees Oikawa’s shocked yet unimpressed expression. “Yes, _roommate_ , I would have told you earlier if you weren’t too busy being a judgmental ass-”

“You were thinking no different from me two months ago,” Oikawa counters.

“Things change,” Kyoutani says gruffly. He’s glaring so much, his golden eyes are reduced to slits and his body has the tension of a rubber band stretched to its max; one wrong word, look, or movement, and he would snap. Yahaba squeezes his hand tighter.

“You’d know all about _changing_ , wouldn’t you?” Oikawa sneers.

“You know what?” Yahaba yells, letting go of Kyoutani and taking a step forward. His hand flies up, and he’s prodding at Oikawa’s chest accusingly as he speaks. “I’m fine with you not understanding everything that’s going on with me and my life, but if you’re going to be a douchebag to the people I love. That’s where I draw the line.” His voice has never been so harsh, he’s never been so close to throwing actual blows at Oikawa, until now. The unexpected outburst obviously takes Oikawa by surprise. “So if you can’t be nice, _fuck off_.” Yahaba says under his breath, all the venom he has saturated in those few words.

He turns on his heel, pushes Kyoutani further into their apartment, slams the door, and locks it for good measure.

Yahaba’s still seething with rage, even as he spins away from the door and collides with Kyoutani. He stumbles back a step, but he doesn’t have much time in between until Kyoutani wraps him up in a hug. He’s warm as Yahaba lets it happen, as he more or less melts in his inhumanly strong arms. He smells a little like wet dog when Yahaba presses his face into the crook of his neck, but then he smells more like Yahaba’s body spray. But most of all, the hug feels like, smells like, _home_.

“I know how much he means to you,” Kyoutani mutters lowly, Yahaba barely catching the words. He shifts, and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying. The tears cling to his cheeks and Kyoutani’s shirt as if they were painted there.

“I-It… it… doesn’t… matter,” Yahaba says, struggling to find words just as much as he’s struggling to breathe. Kyoutani’s hand runs up and down his back, warmth and comfort radiating from the touch. Everything, from the thoughts in his head, the tears on his cheeks, the feel of Kyoutani, the emotion of just minutes prior, has him drained. “I-I still… I still have you, and Watari,” he says weakly.

Because that’s right. Oikawa’s gone now. He’s out of his life and he was the one who threw him out for good. Oikawa, the person there for him when he was attacked. Oikawa, the person who didn’t think of him as less afterwards. Oikawa, the one who took him under his wing and made it his personal mission to protect him by teaching him to protect himself. Oikawa, who supported him and who he trusted.

Oikawa, who was stubborn in his ways and on the path to becoming a world-renowned Hunter.

“We can’t replace him, you know that,” Kyoutani says, finally breaking the hug and holding him at arm’s length, instead. “We’re here for you, but you have to decide if you want to talk to him again. Okay?”

Yahaba just nods weakly, because its all he can do. His voice is shot and if he opens his mouth, it’s like he’ll just burst out crying all over again. It’s not about him. _Kyoutani_ had all that hate thrown at him, he should be the one at least a little shaken. Yahaba shouldn’t take the limelight.

He mops at his tearstained face and running nose with the collar of his shirt before Kyoutani cradles his face in his hands and pulls him down for a series of slow, passionate, attentive kisses.

* * *

Yahaba is reading _Of Monsters and Men_ when Watari walks out from his room, phone in hand.

“Okay, thirty-three unopened texts and four missed calls, all from Oikawa. Something has to be up and I’m not leaving this apartment until you tell me,” he declares, holding the phone out like it’s a piece of trash and dropping it onto Yahaba’s lap. Yahaba sighs, shutting the book and putting it to the side.

“Really? I was just reading about _The Toxicity of the Shifter Disposition_ ,” Yahaba complains. Watari takes the book, puts it on the small coffee table, and takes its place next to Yahaba on the couch.

“You’ll know all about that, trust me,” he says quickly, turning more towards Yahaba. “So, Shigeru, do you have something to tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Watari says, draping himself over Yahaba’s lap. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

“Fine.” Watari tucks his knees in closer so that they’re digging into Yahaba’s hip. “You’re being really childish right now.” A foot comes up the res on his shoulder. “Didn’t know you were that flexible.” Toes wiggle towards his face, and Yahaba finally breaks. “Shit, fine, I’ll tell you!” he yells, shoving Watari off of him. The shorter just laughs and situates himself on the couch again.

“It’s not my fault that you’re literally the most stubborn person in existence,” he quips, before leaning in and resting his chin on his folded hands. “Proceed.”

“Oikawa came over yesterday for… God knows what, and Kyoutani answered the door, and he was really mean to him and so I just… snapped,” Yahaba explains.

“Snapped?”

“I… sort of yelled at him.”

“Sort of?”

“And told him to fuck off.”

“ _Shigeru_!”

“Well, I snapped, okay?” Yahaba says, his voice rising several pitches. “All he ever talks about now is me staying away from Kyoutani, like, he doesn’t even try to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t even ask me why I’m not listening! And if he’s going to be that much of a dick to Kyoutani, I don’t want him around because…”

“Because…?”

“Because I love him,” Yahaba says, and the words fit strangely in his mouth. It’s one thing to be Bonded, but completely another to be in love. They feel different. But the words have finally come out, and it’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but _it’s the truth_. “I don’t want hurtful people like Oikawa around him.”

“But Oikawa is one of your oldest friends,” Watari notes.

“I know, I know,” Yahaba says, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” Watari says, lurching forward to grab Yahaba’s head and place a big, overdramatic kiss on the top of his head. “Now be a good little Shigeru and read your book while I’ll make food.”

“God, you’re so weird,” Yahaba mutters as Watari goes off into the kitchen. He snatches his book of the counter, opens up to the page he left off on, and gets comfortable as he begins to read again.

“ _Some ancient myths present the subject of ‘toxicity’ to be something akin of a disease in terms of spreading werewolf genetics; there are many titles suggesting that the werewolf affliction is passed on by a scratch, bite, or other bodily damage inflicted onto a human by a werewolf in their Shift. However, there are few werewolf sub-species today who are able to pass on their genetics in this manner. Most werewolf sub-species are, in fact, passed along by blood or by sexual bodily fluids._

_The same goes for all Shifter species, whether that be canine, feline, or otherwise. All Shifter species have sub-species that can pass Shifter genetics along by inflicting bodily harm, but most Shifters can directly ‘infect’ a human by the mixture of sexual bodily fluids, the most common way of this being insemina_ -”

The door clicks open, and Kyoutani walks into the apartment, grocery bags in hand. The door slams shut behind him as he makes his way into the kitchen, but Yahaba slams his book down onto the coffee table faster, the sound making both Kyoutani and Watari look at him confusedly.

“Shit, Shigeru, what the hell is your-?”

“ _Why_ the hell are we going on some round-about journey trying to mask all this up when all Kyoutani has to do is fuck me and Change me into a Shifter?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!   
> Thank you all for reading, and please leave comments or questions! It'll help me write faster i promise you!! Thank you so much, please have an awesome day and stay safe!!  
> love you all!!  
> -HB


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO ALMOST A YEAR LATER, I EMERGE FROM THE SHADOWS AND BARF THIS OUT  
> this year has been incredibly intense and draining, but i still love this a lot and i dont want to abandon it and disappoint you all. I'm staring school again soon and it's going to be insane, but with your support we can get through this!  
> anyone who can tell me where the narration/style shifts, ill give you all my love and a cookie
> 
> ~enjoy~

The silence that follows is long, uncomfortable, and very, _very_ awkward. The grocery bags slip through Kyoutani’s fingers and falls to the floor messily. Whatever utensil Watari was holding clatters onto the kitchen counter.

“What? So you both aren’t going to give me an answer now?” Yahaba demands, standing up from the couch and glaring at both of them.

“Shigeru, you have to understand-”

“What don’t I understand? If I’m Changed, there’ll be no problems!” he argues.

“You literally were set on killing every single Monster in existence two months ago,” Kyoutani says, stooping down and picking up whatever he dropped. “I didn’t think you would be so keen to become one.”

“I-I didn’t want to _kill_ them,” Yahaba says, shrinking in on himself.

“You didn’t say it, but you might as well have,” Kyoutani accuses, stalking into the kitchen and setting the groceries down onto the counter. “I didn’t really think you would like the option of Changing, so we didn’t mention it.”

“ _He_ didn’t mention it,” Watari says, jabbing a finger at Kyoutani as he goes around and snatches the book off the coffee table before sitting down. “It was almost impossible to get him to talk about all the options, even before we started planning what we were going to do.”

“What does that-?” Yahaba starts to ask, but the answer hits him in the face. “Wait, you _talked_ to him about this in your meetings?”

“A Bond isn’t hard to spot if you know what you’re looking for,” Kyoutani says smugly, leafing through the pages and scoffing at _Of Monsters and Men_. “When was this book written? 1912? They’re still talking about Harmful Change. All those species died out with the last Hunt.”

“This was the best book they had back at the office that I could get my hands on, okay?” Watari argues with a sigh, almost like he was disappointed with the age of the book as well.

“ _Don’t go changing the subject_!” Yahaba says, huffing. “You _knew_ this was an option, so _why_ didn’t you say anything?”

“Because, unlike what you think, it’ll give us a lot more issues than we have already,” Kyoutani says, his tone bored as he snaps the book shut and throws it back down at the coffee table. Yahaba tries to interject, but all he does is lift one finger to shush him. “Every new Monster is tracked, _heavily_ , by the Association. Changing you would bring you to their attention, they would find out that you were a human, and that you were Changed by me, and that we were Bonded before the Change, and they would _still_ kill us. And probably Watari, too, because at this point he probably perpetually smells like the both of us.”

“I didn’t know you were so adamant about not fucking Shigeru, Kentarou,” Watari jokes, finally rifling through the groceries like Yahaba knew he would.

“ _I’m not! Shut up, you crossbreed_!” Kyoutani hisses, glaring at Watari venomously, a faint growl rolling at the back of his throat.

“I happen to be human, thank you,” Watari says, bowing slightly and meeting his glare with a friendly grin. “Oh, and should I leave for this kind of talk? You know, since you admitted to wanting to have sex with your Bonded?”

“I didn’t admit to anything!” Kyoutani yells, red spots growing on his cheeks.

“What’s so bad about wanting to have sex?” Yahaba asks, tilting his head to the side. Kyoutani puts his head in his hands and Watari laughs his head off.

“You’ve _got_ to let him finish that book!” Watari wheezes about a minute later (a minute of hysterical laughing, intense discomfort, and growing confusion, mind you). His words have Kyoutani standing up in a flash and taking the book from the coffee table in less than a second.

“ _No_ ,” he growls, clutching at it tightly.

“You _did_ put him in charge of teaching me everything and anything I’ll need to know about Monsters,” Yahaba reasons, smiling innocently.

“And clearly, that was a mistake,” he quips.

“Yes, what a tragic slip-up, now give Shigeru back his homework,” Watari says sweetly, like a mother who’s trying to scold her children while there’s company over. Kyoutani tosses over the book, which Yahaba catches deftly.

“Don’t you dare get any ideas,” Kyoutani says, eyes piercing Watari in a murderous glare.

“Sure, sure,” he responds flippantly, “but that doesn’t mean Shigeru won’t.”

Kyoutani huffs, and barely glances at Yahaba before walking out of the apartment, door slamming behind him in his wake. Yahaba gazes at the door, wanting for all the world to drag Kyoutani back and make him _talk through this_ like anyone else would.

“Don’t worry about him, Yahaba,” Watari says lightly. “Figuring out how to put everything in words is hard for him.”

“Are you sure you’re his social worker, not his therapist?” Yahaba mutters, sitting back down on the couch with a little huff.

“They’re one in the same,” Watari responds. “The book does answer some questions you might have, though. I would say keep reading it.”

“He didn’t want me to.”

“He wants to _protect you_. Monsters have systems of their own, some more… _violent_ than others. Kentarou just doesn’t want you to realize that he’s different from you in more ways than one.”

“What?” Yahaba asks, even more confused than he was before.

“I’m sure he’ll explain later,” Watari says, moving back into the kitchen and going back to what he was doing. “ _Read_.”

* * *

 

It’s late when Kyoutani comes back. Watari’s already gone off to his own place, saying that if he stayed Kyoutani would never come back, and that they needed to talk this out without him. Yahaba couldn’t have agreed more, but didn’t say so, and only said a small goodbye as his friend left.

Kyoutani strolls into the apartment with his jeans riding low on his hips and his shirt slung over his right shoulder. Yahaba blinks at him from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to close _Of Monsters and Men_ in his lap. Both of them say nothing, no greeting, no jeering at Kyoutani’s sudden running away, no remarks about Yahaba’s adamancy when it came to answers about sex.

The corner of the Shifter’s lips quirked up as he passed behind Yahaba and, as fast as lightning, snatched the book out of his possession.

“I’m burning this book,” he says like it’s a fact, like he has the matches in his other hand and inching it closer to the book’s cover. Yahaba flies to his feet.

“No, you’re not,” Yahaba tries to say sternly, but the phrase comes out bubbly, he himself unable to keep from smiling as Kyoutani continues to smirk.

“It’s giving you _ideas_ ,” Kyoutani spits the word like it was the most preposterous thing in existence, “and I can’t have that.”

“What century do you live in, again?”

“Dunno, time gets kind of blurry when you’re immortal.”

“Wait,” Yahaba mutters, freezing in his attempt to coerce Kyoutani against the wall to grab the book. “You’re immortal?” Kyoutani smiles at him.

“I’m messing with you,” Kyoutani says snarkily, tapping the book on Yahaba’s head once, twice, before he tries to snatch it out of his hands once again. Kyoutani clicks his tongue at him before slipping away from him and putting the couch in between them.

“You know, this would be a lot more entertaining it I could match your speed,” Yahaba says, looking at him with an unimpressed gaze. Kyoutani blinks at him twice before holding up the book and shaking it slightly.

“See? _Ideas,_ ” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper at the last word, like it was some big thing neither of them knew about.

“Why are you so adamant about not talking about this?” Yahaba says, leaning over the backside the couch, no longer willing to play along. Apparently, neither was Kyoutani.

“Why are you so adamant _about_ talking about this?” he counters, putting the book down onto the makeshift coffee table and looking back at Yahaba.

“Because it’s a choice,” Yahaba says.

“A choice that would have made everything worse. Weren’t you listening when I explained?” The question wasn’t a question at all; it was more like a challenge than anything else. The two stare at each other for a long minute until Yahaba is the first to look away.

“I just wish you guys didn’t discuss it without me, that’s all,” Yahaba mutters. “This is a part of my future too…”

“But it’s still ultimately my decision,” Kyoutani says, bridging the space between them as much as the couch would allow before forcing Yahaba to look at him with a nudge of his knuckles, “and I wouldn’t put you through all that for nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be for nothing-”

“Then you really weren’t listening to me.”

“I was!”

“So you get how I don’t want to get you into any more trouble than I already have?” Kyoutani demands, an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“This isn’t…. trouble,” Yahaba says slowly, knowing that it wasn’t a word to describe the thing between them.

“You could die, Shigeru! It that’s not trouble, I don’t know what is!” Kyoutani yet is desperately, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “I’m trying to keep you safe, and you just don’t _understand_ …” His hands ball up in a way that’s the opposite of anger and expresses the uncertainty his words fail to convey.

Yahaba’s sure he’s right, he doesn’t understand most of it. He understands Kyoutani’s reasoning, his fierce desire to protect him, to get them out of this alive. He understands the need so survive and win against this thing that seems larger than life itself.

He just doesn’t understand why he insists on doing it without his help.

“You…” Yahaba starts, looking down to see his hand reaching towards one of Kyoutani’s. He doesn’t know why he hesitates, but it’s only for a split second before he unclenches his fist and holds in in his own. “You knew what you were getting into when you realized we Bonded. I didn’t, so this whole thing has really been up to you and Watari, but… I want to help make a better life for all of us. And learning all this is the best I can think of doing, at this point. You’re right about me not understanding, but I’m _trying_ to, and… well, I… I don’t want to be just something you have to protect. I… I want to be next to you, not behind you.”

Kyoutani lifts his free hand and brushes Yahaba’s grey hair away from his face. “But you’re so _old_ ,” he whispers, almost appalled.

“ _We were having a moment-!_ ” Yahaba says, batting at him and pulling away from Kyoutani. He fixes his hair himself and glares at Kyoutani as the other grins back at him.

“I was just kidding!”

“You think this is _so_ _hilarious_ -!”

“It was, actually.”

“Never mind, this isn’t… you’re…. you’re _impossible_ , do you know that?” Yahaba shouts, barely able to get the words out. Kyoutani only chuckles at him in response. He huffs, before turning around and heading to their room. “We were having a _serious conversation_ and then you treat it like it’s nothing…” he mutters bitterly, not _believing_ that he wouldn’t take this seriously.

As he reaches for the doorknob, Kyoutani slips in between Yahaba and the door. He puts his hands on his shoulders, effectively making Yahaba freeze. He pauses for a moment, looking into Yahaba’s eyes evenly.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just… didn’t know what to say. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Kyoutani says. “I don’t know that. I want to keep you safe but… you’re right. We’re in this together and I can’t… nothing will happen if we keep up like this.”

“So… you’re saying I can help now?”

“When you finish all the books Watari wants you to read.”

“ _All_?!”

“There’s four other books he wants you to read.”

“That’s not…”

“They’re pretty thick books.”

“Fuck…”

“You’ll live,” Kyoutani says, unceremoniously leaning in, wrapping his arms around Yahaba’s neck, and kissing him. Yahaba couldn’t help but tilting his head and melting into him.

* * *

 

“-I mean, I completely saw it coming, so it was not a really good plot twist after all. They left way too many hints along the way, how could you _not_ assume he was the mass murderer?”

“Please make him stop…”

“He doesn’t have an off-button,” Yahaba replies lowly, keeping a firm grip on Kyoutani’s hand in his, almost like he was scared that the other would run away at any moment.

Apparently, the fact that Watari could talk about any one of his interests at great length is new to Kyoutani, and Yahaba finds it hysterical.

“And you would _think_ they would match up the handwriting, because, honestly, when that’s the only link you have, why _wouldn’t_ you?” Watari throws a head of lettuce in a bag, twisting the top before tossing it into the cart. The shop is empty, for the most part, and while the other customers stay ell away from them, Watari’s voice can be heard over the soft music playing over the loudspeakers.

“People can change their handwriting,” Yahaba retorts, and Kyoutani groans.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter when the murderer is _that much of an idiot_ to not change the way he writes.” Watari presses on, looking at the other produce before deciding that the gross amount of vegetables they had was enough. “I mean, if you were a murderer, wouldn’t you try to change _everything_ you might leave behind?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be talking about my plans _in the middle of a store_ ,” Kyoutani points, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ah, see? Now you’re sounding more like a murderer,” Watari says, wagging a finger at him as he pushes the cart with his elbows.

“I never killed anyone,” Kyoutani mutters.

“You stole my heart,” Yahaba chimes, sidling up next to him and grabbing his arm. “In the most literal sense, that counts as murder.”

“That’s creepy,” Kyoutani instantly refutes, moving to push his human off him, but Yahaba only holds tighter. “Shinji, help me get rid of this old man.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“You’re stuck with him,” Watari says snidely, snatching a box of hair dye off the shelf they were walking by.

“Can you _stop_ calling me old? I’m not!” Yahaba whines, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m only teasing,” Kyoutani says, ruffling his hair affectionately before dropping his arm across his shoulders and pulling him close. “I think the silver suits you.”

Watari moves quickly and, making a show of it, drops a box of condoms into the cart.

“ _You little fucker-!_ ”

“ _Why would you-?_ ”

“Just to complete the works,” Watari practically sings, not stopping for the second while the other two sputter. “Oh, and Shigeru? I forgot to tell you. There’s lube in your dresser drawer.”

**_. . ._ **

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Yahaba says, nearly kicking their door down as he bursts into their apartment.

“Someone had to, and Kentarou sure wasn’t,” Watari says, matter-of-fact, following him closely with his arms laden with grocery bags.

“In my _workplace_?!” Yahaba nearly explodes. “My one day off and you have to _embarrass me in front of my co-workers?_ ”

“Three guys buying condoms isn’t as outlandish as you think.” Watari is about to wave his hand around the way he does when he wants to brush a topic aside, but he catches a look of Kyoutani and Yahaba’s matching unamused faces. “So maybe it’s a _bit_ out there, but no one’s going to assume anything _bad_ about the whole…” he trails off, giving another glance at their discountenance. “Yeah, okay, maybe I should have thought that through a little better.”

“Maybe?” Kyoutani growls.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” Watari winces, taking a step back.

“And what’s up with you leaving lube in my room?” Yahaba demands, taking a step forward.

“I’m just trying to be a good parent and make sure that when- _if_ , if you two decide to do it, you’re at least protected!” Watari says exasperatedly, his hands waving wildly before gesturing at the to of them. “I’ve got some clients to check up on today, so I’ve gotta run,” he doesn’t pause to look them in the eye as he darts past them and out the door, “but _please_ , Shigeru, touch up your roots!”

The door shuts with barely a sound despite him nearly sprinting out of the apartment.

“I’m going to kill him one of these days,” Kyoutani says without any heat in his voice. Yahaba throws his head back and lets out a sound that’s a strange cross between a shout, a groan, and a growl.

“He’s an idiot!” Yahaba yells loud enough so that if Watari was at the bottom of their stairs, he would hear it, just in case. “He knows full well that you don’t want to fucking-!” The sentence doesn’t finish itself, his face flushed and his hands clenched into fists and _very pointedly_ not meeting Kyoutani’s gaze. Yahaba can’t. He _can’t_. He marches to the kitchenette instead, gathering the bags and setting them in a heap on the counter. He yanks things out of the plastic, throwing open the fridge and stuffing vegetables inside where they’ll fit between the surplus of cream soda and ginger ale.

Yahaba whirls around, heading for the bags again, planning on ripping the box of condoms out and throwing them across the room, when strong, warm arms wrap around him. He hates how his body automatically goes lax.

“Let me go,” he mutters, no fight left in him as he lolls his head back to rest it on Kyoutani’s shoulder.

“Shinji’s an idiot,” Kyoutani confirms, shifting a bit to press a chaste kiss on his clothed shoulder, “but I think he really is trying to look out for us.”

“But he’s rubbing it in my face,” Yahaba says, trying to get out of his hold. Kyoutani keeps him held tight. “I mean, you don’t want to have sex with me, and that’s fine, but if he could _not_ do this, that would be-”

“I don’t _not_ want to have sex with you,” Kyoutani murmurs in a low voice. He pulls him closer, their bodies fitting together so seamlessly that it’s impossible not to notice. “If things were different, I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless or have _you_ fuck _me_ , but.” There’s a perfectly placed pause, and Yahaba’s thankful that they weren’t face-to-face. He _knows_ Kyoutani’s expression would probably kill him. “I know the risks, and even _if_ we were prepared I wouldn’t...”

“I understand,” Yahaba says gently, noting the way his voice cracks. He rests his hands gently on Kyoutani’s arms, which fold nicely over his waist.

“No,” Kyoutani grunts, squeezing Yahaba so tightly that his breath is forced out. “Shigeru, I couldn’t live with myself if I let anything happened to you. Changing you would be… the worst thing that I could do. Even if it was on accident, even if you wanted to, even if… You’re not a monster, Shige-”

“You’re not a monster either,” Yahaba says firmly. He can’t take the watery edge in Kyoutani’s voice, like it erodes everything that keeps him standing, knocks him to his knees and leaves him winded. Despite the arms that hold him steady, he turns so that he’s facing him. There’s _so little room_ in between them that his hands have nowhere to go and they find themselves on Kyoutani’s shoulders and sliding up to cradle his face. “You were never a monster.” Their foreheads press together, their eyes locked and unwilling to flit anywhere else. “I’d do anything for you,” Yahaba feels himself breathe, and he doesn’t miss the way Kyoutani’s eyes widen and his shoulders stiffen.

It’s not unexpected but, with a quick tilt of his head and a slight lurch forward, Kyoutani steals a kiss that’s equal parts bruising and sweet. The warmth and the weight are welcomed, seeping into him like relief, and when Kyoutani pulls away a second later, he chases after him.

There’s hope sparking in the back of Yahaba’s head. It’s fueled in the way Kyoutani’s broad hands splay out against the small of his back, the way Kyoutani hums into the kiss as Yahaba cards his hands through his coarse hair. His thoughts are blurred, uncensored, bleeding into his fingertips where they tease the back of Kyoutani’s neck, pooling at the bottom of his stomach as his tongue darts out at the seam of Kyoutani’s lips-

It’s like a cold bucket of water when Kyoutani pushes him away, breaking the kiss, and directs Yahaba’s hands away from hair.

“You’d do anything for me,” Kyoutani says, voice low, and it’s hard for Yahaba to suppress the shudder that racks through him. “Then let me have this,” he adds, squeezing Yahaba’s hands before dropping them and pressing a small kiss to his cheek. A wry smile pulls at his lips as he sweeps the gray fringe away from Yahaba’s forehead. “We really should retouch your roots.”

The shift si so sudden, Yahba swears he has vertigo or whiplash or _something_. There’s an ache settling below his stomach, heat still thrumming through his veins and-

“ _Dammit_ , you’re so _frustrating_!” Yahaba groans, hiding his face in his hands. He’s replied with Kyoutani laughing, high, loud, and unrestrained in the silence of their apartment. He would have wanted to drown in that sound if his _entire body_ wasn’t on fire and his jeans weren’t a little bit too tight. Yahaba slips past him, peeking through his fingers, as he trudges to the bathroom.

“Where’re you goin’?” Kyoutani asks teasingly.

“This is _your fault_!” he screeches, throwing the door open and slamming it when he slips inside. He collapses against the bare wall, not daring to look at himself in the mirror, his hand falling dangerously close to his crotch.”

“Need any help in there?” Kyoutani’s voice sounds on the other side of the door.

“Shut up,” Yahaba grumbles, resigned, as his fingers fumble to get this over with.

* * *

 

Later, when Kyoutani’s done cracking sly smiles at him _and_ helped him with his hair, they sit slumped together on the couch watching some infomercial they’ve seen twice in the past three minutes.

“Some other Shifters around know about us,” Kyoutani says casually. Yahaba freezes where he’s tracing a swirling pattern on his arm and looks up. “They’re good people but… they want to help figure all this out.”

“What does Watari think?” Yahaba asks.

“That it’s a bad idea,” Kyoutani admits. “The more people involved could make us an anomaly.”

“I think we should let them help,” Yahaba says solemnly. Kyoutani stills, but doesn’t argue, which he takes as a cue for him to continue. “We’re not making any progress. If we stay like this, masking and pretending as long as possible, we’re bound to get found out. They might have ideas that could save us. We should hear them out.”

“You just want to spite Watari for the whole condoms-and-lube thing,” the shifter retorts and Yahaba slaps his arm.

“Be that as it may,” he says, holding his nose to the air, “I do think we should at least meet with them and see what happens.”

“Alright.”

The infomercial plays again. The both of them groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS UNCOMFORTABLE FOR ME. LIKE, LOADS. IF YOU DIDN'T NOTICE. but P LE A S E tell me what you think!  
> thank you so much for reading, all of you are amazing and i thank you so much for everything! please come talk to me if you need anything on my tumblr, and know that things will be alright!  
> love you!  
> -HB

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!  
> please leave a comment, or ask me any questions you have! I'm hijackedhoneybeeez on tumblr!  
> THANKS SO MUCH! HAVE AN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT/WHATEVER, AND PLEASE BE SAFE!!  
> -HB


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